The Light In The Fog
In the midst of a blanketing fog,
I found myself one day,
In the heart of that serpent's belly,
Who had led many a man astray.
Now this dark fog was a woeful cloud,
Worse than any fierce god's storm,
And it hung like smoke in the blackening sky,
As to blot out the Sun's blessed form.
And I stumbled to and fro,
Amidst the serpents frightful storm,
Till I saw in the middle of this night-endless plight,
A light as bright as was the dark of the storm.
This light was the light of an oil-burning fire,
Bright and hot and small,
With a glowing stream of a snake-tongue's flame,
And a smoke-plume thin and tall.
Now the source I could not see,
For it was a distance off,
But the flame burned with such great passion,
Of damned human thought,
That I ran, half drunk, through the fear-fog's night,
For that cursed flame I sought.
Of such joy was I, as I chased after the seen,
That the dear, beloved light of false hope,
Danced quickly away, always a step ahead,
From I, a poor soul, lost on that desolate slope.
Well it danced and spun and fluttered away,
To my left, to my right, to behind and in front,
To taunt my vision with such maddening hope,
As the light, in its grandness, could hope.
I galloped like a racehorse around and around,
In the fog fraught of void and terror,
So that my mind was in circles and vexing coils,
Knowing nothing but that sad lighted horror.
I fell to the ground in a gasping moan,
As the fire grew hot and great, and I,
As spectator, could only watch,
As flame kindled flame,
And the serpent-tongues rose high into the sky,
And I cried “Too much, too much!”,
As the furnace burned hot,
And the heavens turned crimson-gold.
And still that wretched fog, as thick as ice-frost's breath,
Fell choking in my throat as the hellfire burned,
And the world was consumed,
By the once small light.
Now as human reason, in the midst of the serpent’s fog,
Burned bright and elusive and taunting in the night,
So shall it burn in terrible fright,
If given a voice in fearfull plight.